


Family Plans and Baking Pans

by floydig



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Family, Healthy Communication, Humor, Liam Gallagher (Mentioned), M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Post-Season/Series 10, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floydig/pseuds/floydig
Summary: “We could use a couple new spatulas, Mick. Our old black rubber one’s been chippin’ off into the pancakes.”Mickey’s mouth twitches, “Yeah I told Carl they were chocolate chip pancakes when he asked. Asshole didn’t seem to notice the difference.”...Ian and Mickey go shopping at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.Featuring strange kitchen gadgets, baking essentials, Mickey’s notebook, and domesticity.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 16
Kudos: 200





	Family Plans and Baking Pans

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2020 Gallavich Gift Giving Game:
> 
> Prompt from silvanshadow: “Ian and Mickey trying to decide what to buy with the Bed, Bath, and Beyond gift card they received as a wedding present.” 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! I had a fun time writing it.

“So you ever heard of this ‘bath and beauty’ shit?” Mickey raises a brow and glances over at Ian as they walk into Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

Ian shakes his head and lightly brushes his fingertips against Mickey’s forearm, “Nah, never been. Hadn’t thought of it til we got the gift card months ago.”

Mickey chuckles, “Always thought it was for Northside fuckers. We always got our shit from them; you go to the right rich fucker’s neighborhood and they leave loads of good shit on the side of the road in front of their houses.”

Ian nods and pulls out a shopping cart, “Yeah we took most of our kitchen and bathroom stuff too.”

He pauses, brows furrowing, “Oh, and Sheila left us a shit ton of her stuff when she moved.”

“So uh—” Mickey pulls out his spiral-bound black notebook from his jacket’s inner pocket, “Sandy was tellin’ me ‘bout some online shit called Pin Interest. Guess it woulda been pretty helpful for the wedding. ’Course asshole didn’t tell me ‘bout it til after.”

They stop in front of a rack of two-in-one avocado pitters and slicers.

Northside fuckers.

Ian turns towards Mickey, interested, “Oh yeah, Pinterest? I’ve heard of that. You check it out?”

Mickey eyes the avocado gadgets skeptically. He reaches his free hand up to grab one and raises an unimpressed brow as he inspects it, “Yeah, man. Looked at somethin’ called boards to see what people buy after they get hitched. Fuckers want wine glass shits and fine china sets and flowery silk tablecloths.”

He shakes his head at an amused Ian, “That ain’t practical. Give me a paper plate, can of beer, and your nine inches, snuffles. That’s all I need.”

Ian’s lips curve up and he shakes his head, “Hey, let me see that avocado shit. It looks cool. Maybe we could use it.”

Mickey hands it over, “Yeah, maybe you could use it right along with your fuckin’ Kind Bars. Fuck I need an avocado slicer for when I got a knife that works just as good?”

Ian grins and turns the aforementioned kitchen gadget upside down in his hand. He gestures to Mickey’s little notebook, “You brought your notebook?”

Mickey’s eyes brighten, “I made my own Pin Interest account. Turns out not all of it is bullshit. Took some notes about some stuff I thought looked good.”

Ian puts the avocado gadget back on the shelf, “I think that’s what the app is for, Mick. So you don’t have to write it down on paper ’cause you got it all on your phone.” He attempts to hold back a growing smile.

Mickey flips through the pages in his little notebook, unconcerned, “Fuck-ever, man. Works the same. Plus shithead wanted to add some stuff.”

Ian nods and turns the cart to the left as they get the fuck away from the avocado slicers and walk towards the _legitimate_ kitchen supply area, “Oh, what did Liam want?”

Mickey flips a page, squinting down at it as he walks, “Uh... he wrote _Breo iDream 1180_ Head and Neck Massager and...”

Mickey’s eyes narrow slightly and he continues grumpily, “ _Mickey_ Mouse Waffle Maker.”

Ian snickers as he directs the cart to the cooking supplies corner.

“Shithead thinks he’s real fuckin’ funny, don’t he.”

They stop in front of a bunch of utensils.

Ginger alien octopus motherfucker is still fuckin’ laughing as he points up at some spatulas on the top shelf, “We should get a couple of these.”

He smiles and lightly brushes fingertips against Mickey’s forearm in that way he does when they’re in public, “Could use a couple new ones. Think our black rubber one’s been chippin’ off into the pancakes.”

Mickey looks up at the various spatulas, “Yeah I told Carl they were chocolate chips when he asked. Asshole didn’t seem to notice the difference.”

Ian’s eyes dawn in realization and he smirks, “I was wondering why he was askin’ me how to make ‘Mickey’s special chocolate chip pancakes.’ ”

Mickey chuckles as he stands on his tiptoes to reach up and grab a couple metal spatulas from the top shelf, grunting softly as he stretches, “Fuck, man. With all the bangin’ we been doin’, thought I’d more flexible.”

Some wrinkly Q-tip gives him a startled, horrified look as she passes by, ushering two small children past them.

Ian shrugs all faux-matter-of-fact like, “That’s ’cause you’re a pillow princess, Mick. Bout time I told ya. Always makin’ me do all the work,” his mouth turns up at the corner.

“Oh real fuckin’ cute, asshole,” Mickey ambles on over to the pots and pans, Ian following him with the cart, “Last I remember I was ridin’ your lazy dick this morning.” He’s got a hint of a smile on his face as he turns around and looks at Ian.

Ian smiles all smug like, “I was savin’ up all my energy for tonight.” He walks around the cart and stands beside Mickey in front of the skillets, “Big plans. Got a hot date.”

Mickey lifts an amused brow, “Hot date huh?” He rubs the edge of Ian’s left t-shirt sleeve between his thumb and _K_ before dropping his hand back to his side.

“Thought we could fry up some bacon, have banana pancakes, watch some TV on the couch,” Ian grabs several medium and large nonstick pans and puts ’em in the cart. He smirks and lowers his voice, “Then I’m gonna spread you out and get you _begging for me_.”

 _Fuck,_ Mickey likes that shit. And Ian knows it too.

He grabs a few stainless steel pots with matching lids and neatly stacks ’em up in the cart. His mouth twitches, “Extra maple syrup?”

“Extra maple syrup, Mick.”

...

They continue down the aisle.

Mickey pulls a pen out of his jean pocket and begins checkin’ stuff off in his notebook, brows knitted in concentration, “Ok... so we got the spatulas, pots, pans, cutlery shit...”

He trails off and squints at the page, “Oh fuck, I almost forgot: we gotta get some baking shit.” He glances back at ginger octopus motherfucker; he’s chillin’ by the cart and looking at the whisks.

Ian grabs one of them, smilin’ a bit, “Let’s get this one. C’mere take a look at it.”

Mickey moves on over and peers at the whisk in question; it’s a nice, sturdy, medium size and the handle is a plastic, anthropomorphic white egg with yellow hair, orange feet, and a smiley face.

A corner of his mouth turns up as he shrugs, “Looks good to me, snuffles. Tiny Red’ll like that shit when we make cupcakes. Speaking of—”

He turns around and strides on over to the baking supplies, Ian hastily following with the cart in tow, “We gotta get some new cookie sheets, cupcake tins, and a couple baking dishes.”

They stop in front of the baking supplies corner.

Ian parks the cart off to the side and reaches out to grab a couple baking sheets, turning to Mickey, “Nonstick, right?”

Mickey’s scribbling somethin’ in his notebook, “Fuck yeah, man. Don’t wanna be scraping shit off.”

Ian puts ’em in the the cart along with a couple cupcake tins, “Hey Mick, what size are you thinkin’ for the baking dishes?”

Mickey looks up from his notebook, “Well, me and shithead are makin’ brownies for his school bake sale, and the recipes I been lookin’ at all have different sizes... I’m thinkin’ a variety would be good. Let’s do nine-by-thirteen, nine-by-nine, and eight-by-eight. Inches.” He goes back to his notes and starts crossing off shit.

Ian watches Mick for a moment and smiles. He gets the black nonstick dishes and places them in the cart. Then he stands next to Mickey and lightly brushes fingertips across the left side of his torso.

Mickey glances up at Ian, lips curving up slightly, “Fuck’s up?”

“You like doing all that with Liam? Like all the baking and shit.”

Mickey clicks his pen shut and closes his notebook, putting them in his inner jacket pocket. He turns to face Ian, “Of course, man. Shithead told me about his bake sale and said he never done it before. Me and Mandy used to make cookies with our mom when we were little before... ”

He trails off and looks at the ground, brows furrowing. Looks back up into Ian’s warm eyes, “Well, you know how that ended.” He chuckles grimly, “But yeah uh-I think... I think it’ll be fun.”

Mick’s eyes brighten a bit and he chuckles for real this time, “Probably’ll make a huge fuckin’ mess though.” He shakes his head and grins at Ian, “I’ll make shithead clean it up; tell him it’s part of the whole experience.”

Ian laughs and rests a hand on Mick’s left forearm for a few more seconds than normal before dropping back to rest at the seam of his jeans, “Kinda feels like we’re helpin’ raise him, doesn’t it?”

Mickey’s smile fades into something a bit more serious as he locks eyes with Ian, “Yeah, I mean—”

His left thumb starts digging small, tight circles into _U_ , “I don’t got much of a good track record with kids but... things change, ya know? And shithead needs somethin’ stable in his life. I think... we could be that for him.”

His lips turn up again, “Kid’s smart as hell; I help him with his Algebra homework even though he don’t need it much, there’s the bake sale we’re doin’, and you’re going to his school for Career Day. He even goes on your fuckin’ runs with you on the weekends. So yeah, it sure feels like we’re raisin’ him.”

Ian smiles at him hopefully for a couple seconds before his eyes darken and eyebrows knit together.

Fuck it. They don’t do touchy feely shit when they’re in public, but Ian needs a little happy kick or reassurance or some shit. He rubs the edge of Ian’s right t-shirt sleeve between his thumb and _U_ , lets his fingers slide over bare skin for a moment, “What’s goin’ on, Ian?”

“I just... don’t wanna fuck him up, you know? We don’t know what the fuck we’re doing.”

Mickey’s eyes soften ever so slightly, “Yeah, I know. But hey, look: kid’s happy, doin’ good in school, has a couple shithead friends, takes showers, eats his meals...”

He trails off and has got a small smile on his face as he nudges Ian’s right calf with his boot, “Not much more you can ask for, right? Yeah, we’re gonna fuck up sometimes, but that’s just part of life, man.”

Ian relaxes and his lips curve upwards, “Yeah, you’re right, Mick. I guess we’re doin’ pretty fuckin’ okay.” He kicks Mick’s boot with his scuffed sneaker.

They start walking down the aisle.

“Hey Mick?”

“Fuck’s up?”

“You gonna invite me to help you and Liam with the baking, asshole?”

Mick raises an unimpressed brow and his mouth twitches, “Fuck you askin’ all these dumb fuckin’ questions for? ’Course you’re gonna help.”

“You’re real cute, Mick; you know that?”

“Fuck-ever, snuffles.”

...

Somehow they end up in the home decor section.

“Hey Mick, come look at this,” Ian is standing further down the aisle, looking at welcome rugs and signs. He’s attempting to stifle his laughter, “Think it uh... it could be real good on our bedroom door.”

Mickey ambles on over, all relaxed and shit. He squints at the sign and his eyes widen in bewilderment, “What the _fuck_ is _that?_ ” He shakes his head at Ian.

The sign in question is pale blue with pink hearts, ocean waves, and wine glasses on the border. Cursive lettering reads:

_make your story so beautiful,_  
_mermaids have trouble believing it’s true_  
_in our house of LOVE, KINDNESS, GENTLENESS, and FORGIVENESS_  
_oh, and a little wine never hurt anyone either!_

Mickey looks up at Ian, who can hardly contain his laughter. Mickey chuckles, “Can’t believe fuckers actually buy this shit.”

Ian looks all amused, “C’mon let’s get the fuck out of here. I’m ready for some fuckin’ flapjacks, and that’s not the only thing I’m eatin’ tonight.”

Mickey grins, “Sounds fuckin’ great.”

* * *

“Did you guys get me the _Breo iDream 1180_ Head and Neck Massager?”

“Fuck no, shithead; that shit was 300 bucks. Be happy and eat your Mickey Mouse banana waffles.”

“But that was a joke!”

“Too fuckin’ bad. You do your Algebra homework?”

“...no.”

“Gotta get that shit done after dinner. You need help?”

“I might. Gotta take a look at it.”

“Okay, just let me know. I’m... I’m uh-here for you, kid.”

“Thanks, Mickey. You and Ian still making brownies with me tomorrow?”

“ ’Course we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun one! I’m already envisioning possible follow up fics. Domestic, healthy Ian and Mickey? Love it.
> 
> Oh! Thought I should add that the words on the “sign” are an amalgamation of a random quote I found on ‘Pin Interest’ + stuff I made up. 
> 
> [my tumblr](http://placate-flakeout.tumblr.com/)


End file.
